


Letters to a Stray

by HarriedHermes



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Eiffel Tower, Epistolary, F/M, Love Letters, Unread Letters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-02 03:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarriedHermes/pseuds/HarriedHermes
Summary: Dear Chat,I know you'll probably never read this. I'm not sure if anyone will. But I need to let it out somehow. It was all so much, and you're the only one who would understand, wherever you are.





	1. Chapter 1

Dear Chat Noir,

Oh, Chat. I miss you. I miss your stupid puns, and your smile, and the faith you always had in me.

I don't have very much faith in me lately.

I miss Ladybug. I miss the roofs, and the strength, and the confidence.

I even miss Hawk Moth some days. What kind of hero does that make me, that I miss the weekly terror attacks? But I do. Not the pain, or the fear, or the guilt when an Akuma ran free for just a little too long. But that moment when a plan clicked together, and we moved together as one to overcome a challenge? I miss having the answers, even only some of the time, and I miss knowing you'd always have my back. (And I miss getting to punch something in the face every now and then, if I'm being really honest.)

I miss Tikki. You never met. I'm not sure I ever told you her name. She liked cookies. You made being Ladybug worth it, but she always believed I was worth being Ladybug, even when I didn't.

It's been just a year, and I can hardly believe it. I'm starting an internship tomorrow, where I'd always dreamed of designing. Some of the polish rubbed off when we unmasked Hawk Moth, but at least I won't be interacting with Gabriel directly. I'm not sure quite what I'll be doing, but I'm sure it'll be a lot of work. I don't know how I would've managed university and this position, if I still had the Miraculous.

Small blessings. I guess there are some things I don't miss. 

I don't miss lying to my friends and my family. 

I don't miss laying awake at night, wondering what would happen if we lost some day. Would my parents ever actually find out what happened? Or would they just assume I was an Akuma casualty? How much damage could an Akuma do, without Ladybug to fix everything? Or what if I was just unmasked? What would you have thought of me, if that was the way you found out who I was?

I wish we'd shared our identities. 

I don't miss telling you no. I don't miss having to hide anything that might have led back to my civilian identity. There's so much I wish I could have told you. I'm not sure if I loved you then the way I know you loved me. But I miss all those chances to find out.

I don't miss wondering who was beneath the mask. How can I, when the question still torments me? Who are you Chat? Where are you now? Did your Kwami leave the way Tikki did? Did your Miraculous disappear the night it all ended? I was so excited to meet you on top of the Eiffel. "Our usual spot?" you said, when you left me in that alley to detransform.

I tried, Chat. I tried so hard. I waited beneath the tower for days. I rode the elevator to the top that first day, and watched the tourists and the celebrations. I knew it wasn't our spot, but I hoped it was close enough. I sat there watching the Ladyblog for hours, refreshing every minute to check for sightings of you. I went to Master Fu's. He was gone. All the other Miraculous were gone with him. I snuck in a window and went through the whole place. No notes, no hint of where he went, or why he took the earrings, or who you were.

I went back again today. There was a new shop in the space. Like his parlour had never been. Like the Miraculous had never been. Like it was all a dream.

I'm back at the tower. Up at the top visitor platform. I took the stairs to the second level. It felt like penance, somehow. I'm not sure for what. Seven hundred steps took a lot longer than a couple of swings, and the line for the elevator was much less exhilarating.

I know you'll probably never read this. I'm not sure if anyone will. But I need to let it out somehow. It was all so much, and you're the only one who would understand, wherever you are. 

So many Akumas. So many victims. So many fights, and injuries, and last-minute victories. Five years. It feels like so much longer. 

And then it was just over. And you were gone. And I was just me again. Just me. It took a few months to pull myself back together. I focused on school and work and trying to keep in contact with all of my friends. Being a superhero took a surprising amount of time, you know? It took less late nights than I expected to make up for all those years of missed classes and assignments.

I made up for it with cold evenings on my balcony, staring at the city. Part of me was always hoping to see you come climbing over the railing, Dread Pirate Noir in a makeshift costume, come for your princess. Purr-incess? My eyes still catch on shaggy-headed blonds whenever I'm distracted (there goes one now!) but I'm sleeping better now.

I think I'm in a good place. The future looks bright. Or that's what I keep telling myself, at least. It's harder without Tikki here to give pep talks. It'd be so much brighter with your smile in it.

I hope you're doing well. I hope we meet again, some day. Maybe you'll even get to read this.

Love,

Marinette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently doing a long distance thing. My letters to no one are more of a surprise anniversary/reunion gift, but the initial separation has had me a bit maudlin.
> 
> I have plans for continuing this, but I'd like to think the first letter makes a decent one-shot for now. Characters and tags to be added as they appear.
> 
> Note that I've only seen up to Captain Hardrock of season 2. This setting will likely continue the grand tradition of future!ML fics which pretend that most of season 2 hasn't happened. We'll see.


	2. from a stray

Dear Bugaboo,

I ran into an old friend in an unexpected place today.

Do you remember Marinette? You knew her somehow, although I never quite figured out how.

Anyway. I was on top of the Eiffel Tower. Well, almost. I was with all the tourists, under our usual perch. I haven't been up to our spot since I last saw your spots. Mari had a sketchbook with her. Did you know she's a designer? She's very talented.

I'd already been watching the city for a while. I miss seeing it from up there sometimes. I miss seeing the lights reflected in your eyes.

To be purrfectly honest, I thought I'd spotted you fur a moment, my lady. She had a red coat on (a Marinette original, I found out later) and had her hair up in pigtails, just like old times. I thought she was up there sketching. After a minute or two, I noticed she was actually writing something. And crying.

She looked right at me at one point, but I don't think she was seeing me. She seemed more at peace by the time she finished. Something made me go over when I saw her close her sketchbook. 

What kind of gentlecat- what kind of hero- would I be if I didn't comfort a damsel in distress?

She told me she was writing a letter. I asked if it was a happy one, or a sad one. 

She got very quiet, for just long enough that I started apologizing. Still smooth as silk, my lady.

There was so much pain in her eyes. A familiar sort of pain. But it was gone almost before I noticed. Then she just looked tranquil. Like she'd accepted whatever hurt her so much.

Both, she finally said. She was so quiet. But wistful? She actually laughed a little. There was so much fondness in her voice. She seemed surprised by her own answer. "Both. Mainly sad, I guess. I think he'd probably be so worried if he ever actually read it. But writing it made it feel like he was still here. Like I might see him again someday. That's a happy feeling."

I didn't ask who "he" was. Somebody she really cared about a lot, clearly. That she loved? Somebody she'd lost. I'm very familiar with the sensation by now, my lady.

We Chat-ed for a bit after. I hadn't seen her in too long, really. I wonder if she misses me? Chat Noir, I mean?

Whatever. Marinette always has the best ideas. You two in the same place would be both awww-inspiring and awe-inspiring (in the vaguely terrifying classical sense).

I've never stopped believing we'd meet again someday. But it has been a year. And I'd like to feel like you were next to me again, ready to take on the world.

I'm not sure what to write about, really, but I do have a few confessions to make.

Nothing bad! Well. Nothing bad that I actually did. Just some truths. I'd like to think they wouldn't change how you feel about me. 

~~You see The thing is I'm actually My name~~

I really wish we'd gotten to share our identities before the end.

I think we always had a different relationship to our masks. You used to talk about "being Ladybug", like it was a role you had to fulfill. Like a job. An obligation. Being a hero? One of the protectors of Paris? That was heavy stuff. It was a lot of responsibility for two kids. But I never had to "be Chat Noir". I am Chat. I always will be. Maybe I always was. And you'll always be Ladybug.

I always wanted to know the girl behind the mask. But I didn't want to know the "real you". I just wanted to know all of you. What was your home like? Your family? Did you have another best friend? What did you do when we weren't fighting or sitting on rooftops? 

I wanted you in the rest of my life. You already knew me. You knew the important parts of me. But I couldn't tell you about my friends, or my family, or what I wanted to do with my future. 

I wanted to be two normal Parisian teenagers. No magic, no fame. Boring and happy and just us.

If wishes were fishes I'd be one fat cat.

So.

I'm blond. Black leather and green are definitely my colors. I grew up without a mother and with no real friends my age. I got magic powers from a tiny old man who spoke in riddles. 

I'm Luke Skywalker. And my father turned out to be Darth Vader.

You know you actually broke his nose? Right at the end there? I'd kinda wanted to do that for years, to be honest.

It was a bit awkward to explain to the police why it wasn't fixed when you repaired all the damage.

Or it would have been, if he hadn't talked his way out of it. You know, he never actually lied in that first statement? I'm sure you've seen the footage. "It happened in the final scuffle with Hawk Moth. Ladybug and Chat Noir have won. There will be no more Akuma."

"Where is he?"

"Gone."

Great try, Alya. Not even the Ladyblogger can get Father to keep talking when he decides he's done.

We didn't talk that first night. No matter what he said with the wreckage of his lair behind him, I don't think he'd really accepted his defeat at that point. We left the hospital as soon as they set his nose. There was already a crowd of reporters in the street when we got to the mansion, but he ignored them.

I tried to say something when we made it inside. It was a perfect snapshot of our relationship. Him at the top of the stairs. Me staring up at his back. "Not now, Adrien."

(That's my name, by the way! In case you forgot, somehow. Not how I'd have liked to tell you. I could never figure out whether it'd be better to learn your name first, or watch you transform back in the hope I already knew it. I knew you'd recognize me.)

Those were the first words he'd said to me since I made it to the hospital. He locked himself away in his office and left me standing alone in the foyer. I'd always imagined victory a little sweeter than it felt in that moment, but I told myself I had you. 

I was so excited. Plagg (my Kwami, you remember the stories) barely stopped me from climbing out the window to hunt you down. Normally I'd have chalked it up to his usual lazy dramatics, but that last fight hit hard. And he was right about all the reporters.

It was hard to sleep, between the anticipation and the realization that Hawk Moth was just a few doors down. But I'd already given Fu the Butterfly Miraculous, and I was almost as tired as Plagg.

My ring was gone in the morning. 

I blamed Father at first. I ran straight to his office. I'm not sure what I was planning to do, without my Miraculous. Just a normal guy in pajamas. But damned if I was going to let him keep taking things from me. Taking friends.

He was a mess. He clearly hadn't slept, and his face had bruised up. His office was covered in drifts of papers and ancient scrolls. It looked like he'd thrown his computer against the wall. I've never seen him as bad as he looked that morning. He managed to summon up a bit of the usual fire when I started yelling, but even that went out when he realized what I was shouting. 

He broke, Bug. 

I don't know how much you know about the Agrestes. It turns out Hawk Moth really did only want our Miraculous for one very specific wish. All that stuff he was shouting at the end? About bringing her back? About making his family whole? About how none of it mattered? My father has always been about the ends, not the means. The Miraculous made it worse, in a way. He always thought he could just wipe it all away when he won. And then he didn't. And all he had left were the means. And then he found out the means included throwing supervillains at his only son for half a decade.

He tried to explain himself, to beg forgiveness. Not for Hawk Moth, of course. Not for terrorizing the city. He tried to apologize for being beaten. For not figuring out my identity, so we could work together. For not bringing my mother back.

And for just a moment, I felt bad for him. I looked at the painting of my mother on the wall, with his stupid supervillain safe behind it, and for just a second I wished he'd won.

Sorry Ladybug. 

Then he just kept going, and it really hit me, for the first time, what he really was. What he'd done, and what he hadn't done. How much he'd prioritized his wants and needs and plots and business above anyone or anything else. How little he'd cared about the costs of his pursuit of the Miraculous. How little he'd cared about any costs of his wish, as long as they happened to somebody else. 

He loves me, I know. He's been trying to prove it- both in his own way and increasingly on my terms- for the past year. But I don't think I'll ever trust his love will be enough.

Anyway. The cops showed up at that point. "No more Akuma" had gone viral, and the city was already celebrating. The authorities wanted a more detailed statement from the only witness. He lied his ass off this time. What was I to do? I couldn't prove I was Chat Noir. They didn't ask me any questions, but I still wasn't allowed to leave.

I didn't make it to the tower for a couple more days. By then the festivities had died down a bit. My face had been in the news even more often than usual though, so it was hard to keep a low profile. If you were there you didn't join the mob trying to catch a glimpse of me. 

~~Where were~~

I've lost track of this letter, Bug. 

It hurts to dredge some of this up. My family hasn't been a happy topic for years.

I miss you, my lady. So very much. I still love you. I'm not sure you ever realized quite how much. I know we'll meet again some day, and I'll get to tell you all this in person. Knowing that helped me through the bad days, at first, and it still helps me keep smiling. You keep me smiling. Thinking of you makes me happy.

After all this time, you might have moved on. Even if it hurts a little to think of you with someone else, the thought of your smile makes it worth it. I hope you're doing well. I hope you aren't pining away after this stray. (Too much. I wouldn't be a-paws-ed to a little bit of pining!)

I'll write you again soon. And I'll keep writing. And when we meet again, and we've finished our tearful embrace (and maybe kissed for a meow-ment or two), I'll upend a whole sack of letters on your head. Just so you know how much I've missed you.

~~I promise the next one will be happ~~

Bien Joué!

Chat Noir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat. That's not how you write a happy letter.


End file.
